


My Heart's Like Yours

by soren (sorensen), sorensen



Series: My Heart's Like Yours [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fantasia Fan WoL, Feels, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Mentioned Scions of the Seventh Dawn (Final Fantasy XIV), Mostly Fluff, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Persephone WoL, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22438660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorensen/pseuds/soren, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorensen/pseuds/sorensen
Summary: A rewrite of my fic My Heart's Like Yours, much expanded.Emet-Selch might think the Warrior of Light is crazy, but she mostly just thinks nobody has bothered to try and talk some sense into the Ascians before.He's her husband. It's the least she can do.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Series: My Heart's Like Yours [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622728
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51
Collections: Final Fantasy XIV - Emet-Selch x WoL Recommendations





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiyo! I wrote this to try and break through my writer's block. I've taken one of the chapters in My Heart's Like Yours and dramatically increased it in length. Other chapters may also follow, but might also just get shelved. Regardless, please enjoy my sassy Warrior of Light.

They're exiting the Ocular when he first produces himself in front of them. Persia's not sure how it's possible, given that she's wearing heavy boots, but seconds later she's staring at her boot as it sails through the air. Somehow, she’d removed it, ignored the obviously fake illusion of the man in front of her, spun around and thrown it at the  _ real  _ Emet-Selch.

He drops it to the ground in front of him, one dramatic eyebrow cocking upward as he considers, eyes focused entirely on her. She ignores the small thrill it sends through her, glaring at him in return.

He'd nearly missed catching the boot, and as it is, he seems to be lightly splattered in mud. Whatever dramatic entranced he had planned is clearly ruined. He seems to take a deep breath before wiping his face with a handkerchief produced from some inner pocket of his robes, gaze never leaving her own.

A small snort escapes from Thancred next to her, obvious delight spread across his face. She’s not sure if Thancred realizes exactly who she has attacked unprovoked, but the former rogue has always appreciated her tendency to proverbially shoot first and ask questions later.

Molten gold eyes briefly flick away from her, considering the gunslinger before seeming to dismiss him, then scanning the rest of her allies, her friends, before finally returning to her.

"Ah. The Warrior of Light. I'd heard you were... different. I didn't realize that meant you were simply insane."

“Insane, am I, Hades? Well, it’s certainly not the worst thing you called me before the end,” she drawls. 

She makes every effort to appear unconcerned about the threat he represents to her task on the First, intentionally keeping her pose as relaxed as possible. Still, she draws the shields up around her soul ever-so-slightly more.

If she thought she’d had his attention before, it is nothing compared to the stare he gives her now. She knows he’s not so much looking at her as he is through her, trying to look straight through to her soul.

That small shiver runs through her again. Buried down as far as she can push, it is the bond that had once linked them together, and as much she's tried to ignore it, it flits to the forefront in his presence.

“Thancred,” she says, hoping to distract the Ascian from his goal, “could you take everyone on ahead, please? There’s a conversation or two I’d like to have with this particular Ascian on my own.” 

She places as much emphasis on the ‘ass’ as possible. 

"Are you sure that's… safe?" Thancred replies, sounding astounded.

"Yes. He's not interested in attacking us. Not right now, at least. Right, Hades?”

"I suppose that's accurate. These are my favorite robes, and I'd hate to get them covered in blood splatter."

Thancred looks between Emet-Selch and her in complete confusion. Shaking his head and gesturing to Minfilia and the twins to lead the way, Urianger follows into step beside him. She hears his quiet explanations about ‘Emet-Selch’ also being ‘Emperor Solus zos Galvus of Garlemald’ as they walk ahead, and she’s entirely aware that she’ll have quite a few explanations to give when she catches up.

"Come on," she says, briskly walking to a quiet area not too far from Spagyrics. At least this way, if he did intend to attack her after all, she'd be close enough for the chirurgeons to stop the bleeding in time. Hopefully.

“Persephone,” he says, voice lilting with something she can’t quite place. 

“In the flesh, once more. Though I do prefer Persia these days, husband. Or, I'm sorry, would you rather I call you Emperor Solus? Emet-Selch? Hades? What name do you hand out these days?”

Her voice is as condescending as she can possibly make it. She'd known she'd see Emet-Selch again one day, had long ago told the Scions about the nature of the Ascians and how her soul had been rejoined, but is one ever really prepared to suddenly see their enemy who was also their husband in a former life?

Whatever it was she'd heard in his voice before is gone now when he replies, "Emet-Selch will do just fine. Persephone did make it quite clear she no longer considered us to be married. She and her friends,” he sneers, and she knows he’s recalling that Hythlodaeus had taken Persephone’s side when he had helped her summon Hydaelyn. "Summoned a primal to split our newly repaired world apart, taking the remaining members of our race with her."

“What do you expect me to say? Sorry? The world wasn’t ‘repaired,'" she spits out, practically hissing at him with Mi'qote ears flattened against her head, tail puffing out and slashing the air behind her angrily "It was bound to a Primal of ever-increasing hunger. You would've had everyone live their lives tempered to a  _ primal _ ! That’s not life, Emet-Selch. At least, it’s certainly not what the remainder of our people wanted, but that didn't matter to you all. It didn't matter because then, just as now, you are tempered to his will."

She can see the spark of anger cross his face as he replies, “Zodiark will bring our people back! None of you would accept that like everything in life, a price had to be paid.”

"Hah!" she replies, with a laugh that is as hollow as she feels at having seen him again. "A price, you say. Like the exchange was a few Gil and not all the other life on the planet. You would have sacrificed entire species for a primal who would have said, _ 'Thank you, may I have another?' _ Over and over, you would have paid that price. At least when Hydaelyn was summoned, she was planned to be self-sustaining, something  _ you _ said was impossible when it was brought it up.”

“At least our Primal didn’t split the world into fragments! Just three of us remained whole after what you all did, the rest of our people split into fourteen pieces.”

As always, Emet-Selch chooses his words to cause her as much pain as possible. As close as they had been, it was impossible to not know how to hurt each other better than anyone else. What had happened to their people had been an accident. It had never been her intention to fragment their people, and as much as she hated who he had become after his tempering, a part of her laments how she had left him nearly alone. 

But it doesn’t excuse his actions.

She resists the urge to shout and instead keeps her voice deadly calm when she replies, "But they are alive. Alive and living their lives!”

“You call what they are  _ living life _ ? What life are you living? You are all fragments of how you are supposed to be. Broken pieces, stumbling around in the dark, still fumbling at things after thousands of years like magitek and aether when those are things you should have learned as a toddler.”

“That doesn’t make them less worthy of life. Who are you to play at being a god? For all your ego, Emet-Selch, you never thought you were superior to others in Amaurot. You are so quick to judge my-- _ her _ actions against Persephone, but what you are doing is far, far worse.”

“I will make our people whole again.”

“No, you will never make our people whole again. It will never again be the world it was before, Hades. Do you know why? I can tell you. My soul has been rejoined seven times, Hades, and more than I remember living, more than I remember all the people I have loved, I remember all the times I have died. Do you have any idea what kind of damage it causes a soul to die and forcibly be rejoined as you have done?”

He is silent as she angrily wipes the tears from her face. More than sad, the tears are frustrated, a desperate attempt to just make him understand.

"Sometimes, I died twice. I'd die to whatever Calamity Lahabrea, Elidibus, some elevated piece of our former friends caused on a shard, and once back on the Source. Worse than the feeling of drowning, or slowly bleeding to death, burning or suffocating, was knowing that some of those deaths were," she huffs a humorless laugh, " _ your _ fault."

She ignores the briefly stricken look on his face when she finishes, “and yet, you think our people would thank you for what you've done at the end. That they will have died over and over, that because they are 'whole,' they would be grateful? No, Emet-Selch, the people you would find at the end of your goal would be far more broken than you think they are now."

He is silent as she watches him.

All the energy is drained out of her. Her anger and fury are spent.

“Whatever ‘plan’ you thought you had when you sent your shadow waltzing up to us, consider that. Know that I have no interest in playing your games or helping you to achieve a worthless goal.”

He regards her for a moment before he replies, “Very well. I’d thought we could work together here, but I can see that’s not going to be an option.”

"If you want to watch as I dismantle everything you've done on the First, be my guest, Emet-Selch. Stay and watch. I'll even introduce you to my friends. Alisaie? Thancred?" she calls, entirely unsurprised when a moment later, the two of them dropped down from the balcony above her, Alphinaud landing the moment following, albeit much more shakily. Minfilia and Urianger descend from the stairs nearby.

“Friends, this is Emet-Selch. He is the final Unsundered Ascian of the three I told you about. Before the Doom set in and destroyed the world, he was the Architect of Amaurot. His ability to see the Lifestream rivaled only by a rare few. He was my-- no,  _ Persephone’s  _ \-- husband.” 

“Hello?” Alisiae greets hesitantly.

Out of all the Scions, she and Lyse have heard the majority of Persia's history with Emet-Selch. She supposed it was lucky that Alisaie was the one here instead of Lyse, as their even more temperamental friend had vowed to punch him the first time she ever saw him. Then again, that would’ve been amusing to see...

Emet-Selch seems to take in the way he's been surrounded by the re-arrival of the Scions. Her friends have formed a semi-circle behind her, nearly enclosing him in.

“We’ll continue this later, Warrior,” he says in reply, opening a rift and stepping through.

“Ta-ta!” Thancred calls to his retreating back with no small amount of glee.  
  


* * *

  
She’s trudging through the swamp in Rak’tika Greatwood when she’s forced to acknowledge him next. He’s been following her around as a shoebill of all things, while she works to fulfill a mostly trivial errand.

"What?" She asks, barely glancing in his direction as she uses her sickle to gather a section of herbs. If she was going to get immersed in swamp water and covered in mud, she might as well select the herbs she needs to prevent Thancred from serving them flavorless meat and vegetables night after night when they're traveling. It doesn't matter how often she offers to cook, he insists that she relax and thus has had to resort to seasoning the food when he's not looking.

When she doesn't receive a reply, she pauses to spare the bird a glance. The shoebill stares blankly back at her, and she can't resist the laugh that wells up out of her. She reckons that her talking to a bird is likely confirming his belief that she's daft.

“While I’m sure that form works on others, you do realize that you can squish your soul down into that creature a thousand times, and I'd still know it was you, right, Emet-Selch? Even if I hadn't been able to tell from your soul, the bird screams 'Hades' with how exhausted slash irritated it looks."

When the shoebill just continues to stare back and her, she shrugs and swaps her botany tools, pulling out an axe to begin chopping down the tree it was perched in. She wasn't spiteful, the tree needed to be cut down, and if it happened to bother Emet-Selch in the process than that was an unexpected benefit.

She hears more than sees the shoebill disappear, but boots dangle in her face when he sits on the branch closest to her to scowl down at her.

"You know I can see straight up your robes when you sit like that, right?" she asks, a smirk on her face when she looks up at him.

“What would the people think if they knew their vaunted Warrior of Light was nothing more than a peeping tom?”

“I don’t really know. It certainly wouldn’t be the oddest rumor I’ve heard be spread about me. Did you know I was raised by wild Gaelicats?”

“It would certainly explain a lot about you,” he drawls in response, idly shaking the hem of his robe when an errant woodchip lands on it from her chopping.

He watches until she nearly finishes felling the three before observing, "Shouldn't you be trying to preserve the life of the tree? Isn't it part of the precious life you were so desperate to save over the lives of your own people?"

His sentence is baited, she knows, and as tempting as it is to ignore him, she’s never found that to be a successful way to change someone’s mind.

"This is a forest. First, it will hardly cease to be because of one or two fewer trees. Second," she says, pointing at two nearby trees that should be thriving but are currently struggling, "it's blocking the sunlight from reaching several other trees, and third, that was Persephone's choice. I may share her memories, but just as I'm sure there are things you've done in your past that you may lament now, I don't necessarily agree with every choice we made."

“In that case,” he begins--

"I do agree with her when it came to Hydaelyn, nevertheless."

She smiles innocently up at him, blissfully enjoying the frustrated expression that momentarily crosses his face.

"You know, none of the previous incarnations of you were such a pain."

"That's unquestionably not true. You were constantly telling Persephone she was a pain. Also, there are still six shards of me left, you could be bothering them instead of preventing my tree from falling like it should've long before now." 

She gives a pointed look at the tree that is nearly fully detached. Hades smirks before snapping his fingers, leaving the tree completely solid once more. Resisting the urge to flip him off, she just walks further into the forest for another tree.

"But that wouldn't be nearly so fun. Those souls are all too boring to toy with. They have but a single piece of your soul and only one or two of them are even slightly amusing. One of them doesn't even have to worry about a calamity; he's going to keel over from old age at any minute."

"You'd know something about being an old man, wouldn't you?"

Emet-Selch disregards her entirely, now taking to floating behind her, his robes just clear of the muck of the marsh she's currently wading through. She briefly considers kicking some of the muddy water toward him, but something tells her that with her luck, it'll end up on her instead.

"What would you have me do, Warrior? Should Elidibus and I give up on our people?"

"Yes," Persia says simply, turning around to look at him. "For your actions, you've merely succeeded at speeding along a process that'll likely happen on its own. Even if you do accomplish your goal, you'll still not have solved the problem that Creation magic in that many souls caused enough drain on the Lifestream that it screamed in pain. Even in your perfect scenario, which I fully believe is foolhardy, and crippling to the people you’re trying to save, you'll just be putting us right back into a situation that'll inevitably cause the Doom to happen all over again.”

The look on Hades' face is moderately astounded. Really, had none of her previous souls had honestly tried reasoning with him? It is utterly baffling.

“It would never be the same as what you lost. You cannot go back to the way that things once were, and I know that if you hadn't been so afraid and rushed when you helped summon Zodiark that you would realize that. But while you're like that," Persia says, gesturing in his direction, "you'll never be able to find another solution."

"And what exactly is it that I'm like, Warrior?" 

His reply is softer than she expects, and she has to strain to hear him over the sounds of the wood. Despite what she'd anticipated, she's amazed to realize that he might actually be listening. It had taken her ages to get Lahabrea even to begin to listen to her. She hadn't expected Hades to from the beginning.

"Tempered by his will."

"Ah. Yes. Well, I believe you'll find that here on the First things are a bit different," Hades says, hand signaling toward the sky, "all the light aether hereabouts makes Zodiark rather turned down. I'm rather more me than Zodiark right now." 

For the first time, she stops to actually look at him. From the first moment she’d seen him again, through her frustration and yes, betrayal at what had happened before the end and in the centuries since she hasn't really let herself study him. How was it that she'd missed how weary he looked? Not his physical form, he'd always been a lazy urchin, but his soul. 

Defiled as it is with Zodiark's will, it looks exhausted. Lonely. For better or worse, she realizes, she is the closest he likely has been to his wife in centuries, a spouse who had never really had the chance to explain her actions to her husband. Hades presumably misses her. Or well, she supposes, Persephone.

It's true that while Elidibus remains, the two of them had never been close. Their Emissary has always acted on his own, kept himself separate from the rest of the convocation. Emet-Selch had never gotten along with Lahabrea, either. She--  _ Persephone  _ had always been the glue between the two of them during council meetings, cajoling one as much as she implored the other.

He's probably been mostly alone centuries. It certainly explains why he had spent so long as Solus, why he'd married her previous incarnation on the Source. Hydaelyn has been disguising her soul from the other Ascians for the most part in this life. It leaned toward explaining why it had taken him so long to appear in front of her.

"So you are," she says in response, realizing that she's been staring at him for an awkwardly long moment. "What's the thing you're most gratified of having built since Amaurot?"

"Well, that's an abrupt change in the subject if I've ever heard one, Warrior. Tired of all the monologuing?"

"Yes,” she says, taking a seat in the shade of a tree that looked relatively safe from creatures and dry from the damp the perpetuated everything around the water, patting the ground nearby she says, “Now tell me."

He raises those too-large eyebrows at her demand but snaps his fingers before a plush blanket appears on the ground that he deigns to sit on, rolling his eyes when she immediately kneads her fingers in its depths. "Demanding little thing, aren't you? Very well. I am rather pleased with the Garlean Empire."

"Liar," she says, tail idly flicking against him, "That was the one that has achieved the most toward your goals. That's what Zodiark is the proudest of you for having built. There's work, and there's play, Emet-Selch. What is the thing you've built just for the sake of building it?"

"I believe you call it 'Old Gridania' these eras back on the Source."

"Wait, hold on, you started Gridania? How did that happen?"

He’s looking straight at the trees in front of them rather than at her when he replies, "It was more that I planted a tree rightabout where Persephone's soul split into fourteen different pieces, and I buried the broken shell of her body. It's why the area is so verdant."

Persia stopped kneading, head-turning abruptly toward him, "Well. That was more depressing than I was expecting."

"My sincerest apologies, Warrior, that I haven't spent my time since the doom of the world creating gardens and libraries."

She swats at some of the myriads of bugs attempting to feast on her ears, thinking through his reply. This is why swamps were the worst. Aside from the desert. That was, if possible, even more, the worst. Sand. So much sand. 

"Why not, though?" He had loved creating gardens and libraries. Anywhere he could create a tranquil area filled with nooks and crannies he could sneak into and take a nap in.

He rolls his eyes at her question, "You can not be serious, Warrior."

"Hades, do you know what caused my memories to return? What caused me to have sympathy for your cause even if I object to it? It was that same damned tree. You can tell I've dabbled in the healing artes, right?"

"Yes. Amid the myriad of other skills it appears you have picked up and dropped off like you change clothes. How do you even manage to keep everything you need for all those professions?"

"I have a system," she says, ignoring the thought that her retainers are all planning to strike if she doesn't sell off some of her inventory soon. At least being on the First bought her some time, with everything needing to go through Feo Ul, they were likely to at least wait until she returned.

"The point is, that, that tree is the focal point for a lot of the learning a white mage goes through. It is the largest elemental for malms around. I was forced to traipse up to that damn tree for the seemingly hundredth time, and I passed out. I was still young in my career as an Adventurer, and I'd only slain a few primals at the time.” 

"Is there a point to this story?" Hades asks, disrupting her.

"Yes. While Lahabrea had spent most of the time I'd known him being a jerk rather than reminding me of anything, but as I thought, 'Man, whoever planted this tree so far out of the way was a dick.' and it turns out that it was you. You're the one who caused my memories to begin to return." 

Hades is guardedly watching her once more, but since he seems intent on listening, she continues on.

"Ever since then, I've remembered bits and pieces at seemingly random intervals, but I'm guessing they're also places that have a link to our past. Nearly every soul I've met that is a piece of a former Amaroutine is drawn to those places. Those are the souls that have burned brighter, been smarter, stronger, and lived longer than anywhere else." 

She takes a deep breath, striving to say things the right way. This moment was extraordinary. She has an Ascian listening to her, and not just any Ascian - Hades.

"You are waiting to see if humanity is 'worthy' from what I've heard from Elidibus, but you're gaming the system. Our people had millennia after millennia to reach the utopia that was Amaurot. You've given these species roughly one. Look at each civilization you've touched. Have they not grown inexplicably more advanced by your time with them?”

He seems to be considering her words as she continues, "I know it's not all you either, look at Cid, his father, or even Nero." 

She stands up, dusting herself off and collecting her belongings, heading back in the direction of Slitherbough.

He’s silent for a long while, idly following along beside her until she approaches the entrance to the nearly hidden town. 

"An interesting thought, Warrior. Perhaps we'll have to continue this conversation later." 

A moment later, she sees his avian form fly over and perch on the Aetheryte crystal. How he had expected to follow her around without her noticing is genuinely astounding. 

Next time she catches him, she's shooting him with her pistol.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil babby chapter with an excuse to write some delightful banter.

She’s in her chamber in the Pendents when Emet-Selch appears. He’s unannounced, as well as unexpected. As she seems to be adept at doing, she ruins whatever entrance he has designed to make as he freezes mid-gesture of greeting to stare at her in what appears to be surprise.

“Warrior. What exactly have you done to yourself?” he asks, head tilting to the side, eyes wide and attentive as though she had suddenly misplaced a limb.

She sets down her wholly inappropriate book (and damn him for his poor choice in timing. The elezen and the lalafell had just been about to confess their love for each other--) and makes a face at Emet-Selch when he lifts an eyebrow at her choice of reading. Unabashedly, she shifts her bookmark into her location, before addressing him.

“You realize, personally I find it rather polite when people knock on my door and ask to enter.”

“And those individuals cannot just appear in rooms. But nevermind that, I asked a question - what happened to you?” His voice is a demand, but his face is bewildered.

Persia momentarily has to consider what he’s asking about. She’s quite sure Persephone had also occasionally indulged in illicit books, so it wasn’t her choice of fiction… She also couldn’t recall being beaten up at the moment, though she had forgotten before and given Tataru a fright… Oh!

“Err- the tail got in the way when I was trying to sleep, and I’d been wanting to swap back for a while - wait. You can tell?”

“Of course I can tell. You had a tail yesterday. Today you do not. How would I miss that?”

She can feel him poking about in her soul, pressing about in various places like perhaps she'd just stumbled and hit a button that toggled her species between one and another and he could reset it for her.

“Nobody ever notices,” she counters, shoving his wayward aetherical fingers back toward himself. He transforms into a shoebill sometimes, but she shifts from a Miqo’te to a Hyur and he acts like it’s a big deal.

“Your friends don’t notice that you’ve changed species? I realized they were a rather dim bunch, but this suggests that the world has fallen even further than I’d thought.”

“No,” she retorts, rolling her eyes at his insults, “I’ve done it plenty of times, and whatever race I am everyone just seems to think that’s what I’ve always been.”

“Curious. I don’t know if you recall, but it was an unusual ability before the Doom. The novelty of it generally wore off as children, but it’s exceedingly curious that you’re capable of doing it with only half your soul. It called for greater focus, but then again, you always were tied intimately to other species of the planet. I imagine that you’ve lived lives as quite a few different--”

“You’re rambling,” she says, cutting him off with a soft grin.

It’s the first time she’s seen him since her return from Rak’tika, and she discovers that her goodwill at him for saving Y’shtola hasn’t worn off yet. It leaves her far more willing to forgive him for his words, and not ready just yet to shove him out of her rooms.

“I do not ramble,” he replies indignantly, but they both know he’s lying.

Her response was not a new one; Persephone had often called him on his tendency to ramble when he got preoccupied with a new theory or a brilliant new Creation. She had listened for hours as he’d chatted on and on about the exact shade and number of petals the newly flowering trees he’d invented for Amaurot had had.

“How do you do it?” he asks, and she considers the question for a second before explaining. He’s not asking for Zodiark, he’s asking for himself.

Grin devilish and eyes bright, she replies. "I sort've just get naked and then think about what I'd rather look like."

"Is that so, Warrior? Perhaps you should demonstrate for me one day." His response is nearly a purr, and she’s reminded of just how capable of a lover he is.

A blush blooms on her cheeks, and she curses it inside. This is precisely the thing she worries about when she changes species: Hyur telegraph their every thought across their face.

"Per- perhaps one day," she stutters out, struggling to give him as sultry a grin as she can achieve.

It’s not a bad thought. Hades has practically been  _ tame _ since she’d been pulled here, and while it would become messy and the others would never understand (well, maybe Y’shtola would), the thought of Hades watching her while she changed, one thing leading to another…

“Persia,” his voice calls out, drawing out every letter of her name. It snaps her from her thoughts and back to the present. It was something that definitely needed to be thought through.

Shaking her head to clear it of her thoughts (momentarily. Once he leaves, well, that was a different story), she gives him as stern a face as she can muster.

“Now if you don’t mind, I was in the midst of a good book, and want to finish it. Shoo shoo.”

“Emperor. Emperor of vast and great Empires and I am ‘shooed’ from a room,” he replies, but he’s already opening a portal, “I’ll leave you to your  _ novel, _ but don’t think I’ll forget your response, Warrior.”

It’s later when she realizes that she’s not entirely sure why he’d appeared in her rooms tonight, but she can’t say she regrets it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 Thanks Star, you da besssst.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my gal Star for the beta, and for the peeps at the bookshelf for being encouraging and supportive.
> 
> If YOU ever want to hang out, chat and lurk with a bunch of aggressively supportive writers, readers and lurkers, we can be found at: https://discord.gg/GsPXrc5


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